


little things

by b2 (bombshellbrunette)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon-compliant, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 11:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombshellbrunette/pseuds/b2
Summary: Three gifts from Hilda to Marianne, and one gift they shared for a lifetime.





	little things

**Author's Note:**

> hello good morning i woke up in a cold sweat wanting to write them a fic so i fucking did it even though i have so many other wips i wish someone would smite me down  
anyways i hope everyone likes it!! this is straight up just pure fluff. sorry lmfao i wanna treat my girls right
> 
> love,  
millie

_ **breakfast** _

That Sunday began like most others, which was to say, unfortunately.

It had been a cold night, as most were these days, and an unforgiving one. Marianne had been kept awake for hours by the shivering, and when she ultimately drifted off—curled under a fleece blanket she’d bought at the marketplace just a few days earlier—it was to rays of sun filtering through her window.

When she woke up a few unsatisfying hours later, the sun had long since risen and Garreg Mach was in full swing, and with a jolt Marianne realized that it was most likely past breakfast, which meant—

“Hilda,” she realized aloud, raising a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh, _ no._"

Stumbling out of bed and into her dress, Marianne tied her hair in an unruly bun and dashed out the door, wincing at the slam of her bedroom door behind her. Narrowly avoiding getting crushed by a knight on horseback, she sprinted past her training teammates and up to the library, skirts dragging through the mud. After a precarious ascent up the library’s main staircase, Marianne gathered all her courage and walked onto the second floor.

Hilda was standing on a footstool by a shelf, long pigtails swishing behind her as she strained to cram a book into an empty slot near the top. She didn’t _ seem _angry—she was humming under her breath, the sound wafting down to where Marianne stood in the doorway, watching—but one never knew with Hilda.

“Um, Hilda,” Marianne whispered, taking a step toward where Hilda was perched. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to skip our shift. I overslept, I—I’ll do it by myself next time, I swear… I’ll learn how to do it on my own.”

Silence.

Chancing a glance up at Hilda, Marianne bit her lip. She’d been mumbling again, as she always did—of course Hilda hadn’t heard her. Steeling herself, she tried again, “Um! Hilda!”

The minute the words came out, Marianne regretted them. They were far too loud, garbled by anxiety and choked in her throat, and worst of all they startled Hilda, who in her haste to see the intruder stumbled off the footstool and onto the ground.

“Ugh,” groaned Hilda, now a pile of limbs and hair on the library floor. After a few seconds filled only by Marianne’s horrified silence she sat up, brushing off her elbows and huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Mari_a__nne, _don’t do stuff like that. You scared me half to death.”

“I’m so sorry, Hilda,” whimpered Marianne, head hung in shame. She wanted to approach the other girl to see if she was alright—Hilda had only fallen a short distance, but it had happened so quickly—but knowing her clumsiness, she’d be more likely to hurt than help. “I didn’t mean to do that either. I’m so useless for things like this.”

Hilda, who was rising to her feet on unsteady legs, rolled her eyes. “You’re only useless if you don’t try,” she chastised, reaching for a satchel she’d left balanced precariously on the shelf next to her. Rummaging through its contents for a few seconds, a triumphant grin spread across her face when her hand closed around whatever she’d been looking for. “Here. I nicked it from the Professor this morning—poor thing, she hardly even noticed.”

Marianne blinked. In Hilda’s hand was a muffin, dotted with dark stains of blueberry. Coincidentally, it was also Marianne’s favorite breakfast; she ate it whenever she could, and even occasionally slipped another into her bag for when lunchtime rolled around. “Is it—Hilda, um. Did you get it with me in mind?” 

“Duh,” Hilda said. “I know you missed breakfast—I saw you sleeping this morning through the window—so I thought I might as well snag something for you. This whole ordeal might be even more disastrous for you on an empty stomach.”

The words were sharp, thoughtless, but Marianne didn’t mind. That was the way Hilda was. This kind gesture, however—this was a new side, one she’d never experienced before, and it warmed her heart and her cheeks.

“Thank you so much, Hilda,” Marianne said, letting a smile tug at the corners of her mouth as she took the muffin hesitantly. 

"That was nothing," said Hilda offhandedly, but she was smiling, too, so bright it burned, and Marianne thought, _oh._

So _that _was how she felt about Hilda, then. 

** _a compliment_  
**

"I'm stuffed," moaned Hilda, pressing a hand dramatically to the back of her forehead. "Totally and completely _stuffed. _I think I'm gonna sue the professor, because this time she's _really _killed me."

Marianne giggled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not her fault that you decided to enjoy the wedding buffet, Hilda."

Scowling, Hilda kicked at a loose cobblestone. "Stupid professor," she whined, "getting married in the summer when it's all _nice _out and I can't help but eat. Maybe I should sue Your Majesty, too, while I'm at it."

"But the wedding was so beautiful," sighed Marianne, hands clasped in front of her dress. "And Claude came, too. It was so lovely to see him again after all this time."

Hilda hummed her agreement, features unchanged, but Marianne knew she had secretly been extremely pleased to see him in person. Since he'd left Fódlan—and since Hilda had joined up with the rest of their former class to help Dimitri and the professor defeat the Empire—he'd hardly ever returned, but even Claude couldn't turn down an invite to the biggest marriage of the past century. Of course he'd kept up a correspondence with his closest allies, but still; it was a whole other thing to spend time with Claude than to communicate with him.

"Y'know," Hilda started, filling the quiet, "you seemed happy today, too."

Marianne blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah," replied Hilda, shooting Marianne a sideways smile. "Normally you get a bit urgh with big crowds, but today I think you managed to speak to at least fifteen people. It was seriously impressive."

"Oh, stop it," Marianne said, feeling the heat rush to her face. Secretly, she was quite pleased by the compliment, especially coming from someone she revered as much as Hilda, but it was too self-congratulatory to admit as such aloud. "You're exaggerating, Hilda."

Hilda frowned, stopping in her tracks. Her hair, which was piled on her head in an elaborate twist of braids and buns, was slipping free; loose strands framed her cheeks, and her eyes shone in the moonlight like twin stars. As always, Marianne could hardly look at her—she was so beautiful it almost hurt.

"I'm being serious," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her face was twisted into a pout, brows furrowed on her forehead. "You've been changing so much these days, it's crazy. Sometimes I wonder where my cute Marianne from the monastery went."

"I'm still the same as I was," said Marianne softly, ducking her head to avoid full on eye contact. Her heart was thumping in her chest—_way _too fast for this late in the evening—but she couldn't will herself to calm down. _My cute Marianne, _she'd said. It was no different from the way Hilda usually spoke, but here, on this evening, it felt like it actually meant something, and the feeling was overwhelming.

Hilda cast a long, speculative look in her direction. "Just don't leave me behind," she teased at last, starting to walk again. "I don't know _what _I'd do if I didn't have my little helper beside me."

"I would never," said Marianne, firm as she'd ever been, and she meant it. 

_ **a necklace** _

Of course, it wasn't Marianne who left Hilda behind.

It was Hilda who decided to leave, one sad summer two years after the end of the war marked by the birth of the new crown prince. It was Hilda who packed up her large house, bid her friends and family farewell, and fled. And it was Hilda whose letter Marianne held in her hands a month after her departure, and three weeks since their last exchange.

Ignatz had delivered it, dropping the letter and the accompanying parcel at Marianne's doorstep with a sparkle in his eyes and and the cryptic advice, "Open the letter first."

Marianne, shocked, had simply nodded. At the time it hadn't seemed so monumental but now, despite herself, tears welled up in her eyes. It was foolish to get so emotional over something as trivial as a letter—surely, Hilda had stayed in contact with other friends she'd abandoned back home—but seeing the words _Marianne von Edmund_ scrawled across the envelope in Hilda's curled, narrow script made her strangely sad. She'd hardly had the opportunity to see Hilda's penmanship before; now, it would be the only thing of Hilda she'd see until their next meeting.

"Foolish," Marianne cursed herself under her breath, running her nail under the seal so she could pry open the mail. Her voice was shaking. _Disgusting._ "I'm so—I'm so foolish."

When she managed to free the letter of its seal, she sat down on the chair at her desk, switching on the lamp so she could begin to read.

_My precious Marianne, _the letter began. _Oh, how it has been far too long since our last meeting. It is frightfully hot here. You would never be able to manage it, with your modest style of dress. Me, I don't find it all too unbearable, but I much prefer the climate back home. I suspect you've been wondering why I haven't contacted you sooner—though actually, knowing you, you've probably admonished yourself for it. How rude! As if I would keep company with someone I wasn't fond of. Regardless, I have some sort of explanation to provide for myself—and you certainly deserve to hear it. You see, I was inspired by your passion and talent—and _yes, _Marianne, it is a talent, as I’ve told you far too many times—for fashion ornaments. And so I decided that I would set out and learn the trade myself, so that I could properly call myself your friend and work alongside you eventually, and so that I could make you something to thank you for all that you've done for me, during the war and now. If you feel like calling me foolish for making such a drastic decision on my own, you're probably right, but I don't mind. (This time, at any rate.) Attached, if Ignatz followed his directions, is a surprise from me to you. I hope to see you soon, my dearest, most lovely friend. _

Marianne's fingers trembled as they traced over the final line. _Love, Hilda. _Blinking back tears, she placed the letter down on the desk and reached for the package. Opening it with a careful reverence, her hand flew to her mouth when she saw what lay within. A beautiful, gleaming pendant sat at the center of the wrapping paper, its shiny silver surface engraved with dozens of markings. Beneath it was a little note, written on a piece of ripped cream paper. Folding it open, a wobbly smile settled on Marianne's face as she took in its contents.

_A beautiful necklace for my most beautiful girl, _it read. _Wear it, and think of me._

Without a second thought, Marianne unclasped it and wound it around her neck, letting the heavy pendant settle on her chest. 

She was indeed thinking of Hilda.

_ **and herself** _

Marianne opened the door. 

Hilda stood in front of her, bags clutched in her arms, and smiled. "Hey," she said in that slightly breathless, quintessentially Hilda-ish way of hers. "Can I come in?"

"Hi," breathed out Marianne, equally breathless. "Of course you can, let me just—"

But before she could finish her sentence, Hilda dropped her luggage on the floor—_it'll get dirty, _Marianne's remaining sane thoughts protested, _don't let them stay on the ground_—and stepped forward, cupping Marianne's cheeks with her warm hands. "You haven't changed," she said, thumbs rubbing up into the arches of Marianne's cheekbones as she stared into her eyes. "You haven't left me behind, have you?"

"I would never," echoed Marianne, and Hilda surged up, closing the gap between their mouths. As they stood there, kissing—and Hilda's lips were soft and insistent, pressed to Marianne's like she didn't want to let go—on the front steps of Marianne's cottage, all she could think was, _oh._

So this was how a gift was supposed to feel.

**Author's Note:**

> are you as soft as i am bc... wrow


End file.
